


For Those We've Lost

by Foreverwholockedme



Series: What Comes After [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Child Neglect, Dead Sherlock, Depressed John, Drunk John, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Hallucinations, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Parentlock, Protective Mycroft, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverwholockedme/pseuds/Foreverwholockedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't handle Sherlock's death well. It starts with the tremors, and the leg pain, and then a glass of whiskey each night. He tries to love his daughter, and he does, but he can't bring himself to love his child like he did Sherlock. On top of that, John starts to see Sherlock, his dead husband, talking to him, touching him, kissing him. </p><p>It all goes downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

At first, John dismissed it as nothing more than grief. He missed him, God he missed him so much. He could go and visit him every day, but it wouldn't change the fact that John's chest ached each time he left. He wished that they could have had more time together, that it wasn't fair. He wished that he had his Sherlock back. Kylie almost never brings him up around John, but when she does, John responds to her, answers her questions about what was Sherlock's favorite color, when Sherlock's birthday was, what his favorite song on the violin used to be. Sometimes he would entertain it for as long as she wanted to, but on some days he would give a brief response and then act as if the conversation never happened. Those days happened more than most. They were the days were John would sit up in his flat while Kylie was off at school, swishing around the cup of whiskey he held while thinking of Sherlock Holmes, his husband, his best friend, his world.

He would stare at the picture on the fridge, of Sherlock and John just before they said "I do". Those were happier days. He would close his eyes and think about Sherlock on that beautiful day, and he would smile to himself.

_Yellow beaming down on the church, illuminating it to match the mood of the grooms. The air is warm, the flowers are bloomed, John breathes in and grins. What a perfect day to get married. What a perfect man to marry._

_Arms wrap around him, a warm presence behind him. He smiles as he feels the familiar curls on his cheek. He holds the soft hands and kisses the cheekbones that poke out of his face. He tells him he loves him, and that he can't wait. The laugh is deep and filled with the love only reserved for John. Sherlock kisses John back and says that there is nothing he wants more than to be married to John Watson. The doors open, the guests file in. John squeezes Sherlock's hand and whispers, '_ Showtime. _' under his breath._

John's lips quiver as he remembered every single detail about Sherlock. The way he styled his curls, the way they messed up when he slept. The cheekbones that could poke an eye out, resting on his face, causing his eyes to be small and slanted like a cat's. The blue irises that would change its color every so often. The crooked smile that Sherlock wore on occasion. The deep voice that could charm the pants right off of him. He can still feel the way Sherlock's lips were also so soft, so delicate compared to his own.

He clenches the glass, he almost breaks it. The thought of Sherlock's skin, so gentle, so pale and iridescent. The way it felt in John's hands, the feeling of it pressed against John's body. It made him happy at first, but then he remembered, the absence of it. The cold feeling of knowing that he'll never feel it again, never be able to see it unless he was staring at a picture, or watching an old video. His mind wanders to the last moments he had with Sherlock, at Barts. The way Sherlock's eyes sagged in, and those lips that he loved so much, twisted into a frown of pain and melancholy, the curls that Sherlock spent so much time on, thinning and dry. That wasn't Sherlock Holmes-Watson lying in that hospital cot. That wasn't his husband. That wasn't the genius that everybody loved. He specifically told John not to remember him like that, as that, husk that slowly withered away. He told John to remember him as the person he was before, as the man he fell in love with. John promised him only because Sherlock asked him to. John would do anything Sherlock asked him to.

Leg hurts. The limp made a brief appearance yesterday while he was walking from the nursery school Kylie attended. His leg nearly caved in, but John was a soldier, he learned to deal with the pain and keep moving. Ella was no help, she always told him "Talk to people, use your blog, in order to cope you have to tell someone how you feel..." Wasn't that the very reason why he sought her out? She was a therapist, someone you talk to in order to feel at least a little bit better about yourself. She was rubbish, in his opinion, but he knew that he was never going to stop seeing her.

_"You know she's going to be let out soon, right?"_

John scoffed.

"Mrs. Hudson picks her up anyway, I'll only have to stop off at Baker Street and bring her back."

_"Tell me you're joking. You've left Baker Street? Whatever for, John?"_

Sherlock's voice. It was Sherlock's voice talking to him. He brought his trembling hand up to his forehead. Not now, he thought, don't do this to me now.

_"So then why don't you open your eyes, genius."_

John shook his head. This was ridiculous, he was talking to himself. He has officially lost it. He takes another swig of his drink and motions to sit up, finally opening his eyes.

 _Blue eyes, almond-shaped, staring at him with a gentleness he has not seen in years. Curly dark hair, restored to its former glory, not thin and frayed. Pale skin, glowing with something unknown to John. Soft lips_   _curved in an amused smile. Cheekbones, John has the urge to stroke them, to remember the feel of them against his hand. Purple shirt. John's favorite, as well as Sherlock's. Tight, extremely tight, too tight for Sherlock. Just the way John liked it. Black trousers, complete with the dress shoes. Arms crossed, he's propped up against the counter, almost like he's expecting something, a reaction most likely._

John shook his head. It's the drink, it's just the drink, he repeats to himself. His husband, his dead husband was not standing in front of him making snide remarks. He's hallucinating, he has to be. John opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He resigns to shaking his head. 

This is not real. It cannot possibly be real.

_"Hello, John."_


	2. Chapter 2

John didn't say a word at first. He didn't even open his mouth to attempt to say anything. His eyes checked Sherlock over again, his smile was waning. John scoffed and sat back in the chair as he swished the liquid around in his glass, the ice clinked together as he did it. He decided to keep his eyes on the whiskey, instead of looking back at Sherlock, at least until he could talk again, whenever that may be. The flat was washed over in intense silence as the two men (or was it just the one?) sat in stood in complete silence. Every so often, John would find himself glancing up at Sherlock and biting his tongue each time he did. Sherlock took to drumming his fingers on his arm while John made up his mind. John pinched the bridge of his nose and then took another swig of his drink before setting it down on the arm of the chair and sitting upright again.

His mouth opened up. Good start, he thought. Sherlock uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off of the counter. He was awaiting John's response which was the same thing John was doing too.

"Sherlock."

_"Yes, John?"_

"It's you, actually you. My husband who...who...it's you."

Sherlock just smiled again. He didn't respond to John's statement. John gave a dry smile and then grabbed the cup again and finished the rest of the liquor in it. He shook his head and closed his eyes as the warm sensation traveled through his mouth and slid down his throat. He held up the hand that was holding the glass still and pointed a finger at Sherlock.

"You're not really there, are you?"

He didn't give Sherlock time to answer, not like he was going to anyway. John sniffed and then got up and made his way over to the whiskey bottle to refill his glass. Sherlock didn't budge from his spot while John was talking. 

"It's my fault, I've done it to myself. The first thing I've thought when I held up the glass was, 'Sherlock wouldn't like this. He hates it when I drink.' But then..."

He stopped and then took his seat again, he didn't care if Sherlock was listening to him at this point. He had enough liquor in his system to talk about things he normally wouldn't, even if it was aloud to himself. He took a sip and then pressed the rim of the glass to his lips. It was cold, and it was uncomfortable, but John kept it there.

"I seem rather silly, don't I? Talking to myself, to you, if you're even really there." He had a hint of anger in his voice, but after the next sip, he started to calm down. His tone grew softer as he spoke.

"God you're a lot quieter than I remember you being."

His lips quivered, but he was quick to mask it with a longer drink from the glass. His brows furrowed and then he shot a look at Sherlock to show that he wasn't happy.

"Say something, Sherlock. Anything. Please."

Sherlock's smile faded and he left the spot he favored since he appeared. John watched with soft eyes as Sherlock walked over to him. He forgot how graceful Sherlock was. He missed how graceful Sherlock was. Pretty soon John found his arms wrapped around him, and nearly sobbed because he missed the embrace so much. John clasped a shaking hand over Sherlock's soft ones and then pressed kisses to his arm and tried to blink away his fogged up vision.

_"I wish you wouldn't drink, John. You know what that does to the body, and what it did to your sister."_

John wanted to talk, but his lips quivered and so he shut them up again. He didn't cry since the funeral, and he wasn't going to cry now. God, how warm Sherlock's skin is.

"It just got so hard after....after everything, Sherlock."

_"What about Kylie?"_

"She's the only reason why I'm still...here..."

 _"What do you mean by that?"_ He sounded upset.

John wanted to answer, but all that came out was a sigh. He patted Sherlock's hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Nothing, Sherlock. Don't worry about it."

_"You shouldn't have brought it up then."_

"Sherlock..." He groaned, but he missed it, of course he missed it.

_"John."_

That was the voice that told John "You cannot dodge this no matter how hard you try." He took a deep breath and then another swig and set the cup down on the table next to his chair. After a beat, he said, "I still have the gun."

_"Why?"_

John's silence only validated his deductions. Sherlock's silence made John nervous, but he expected it. Sherlock knew why John had the gun when they moved in with each other, he was the one who told him that he needn't use it unless either of them was in danger and had to. He promised Sherlock that he was only going to use it for its intended use.

"I wasn't going to use it because I promised you that I wasn't going to. It got hard sometimes."

John looked up and saw that Sherlock's face was blank. He was scrutinizing John like when they first met. John's head was swimming, and he wanted nothing more than to have Sherlock's lips crushed against his. He just wanted Sherlock wholly, he wanted Sherlock in his arms. He wanted something from Sherlock, anything at all would be good enough for him. Sherlock's fingers ran through John's. John leaned all the way back in the chair and closed his eyes.

_"Listen to me carefully John. Do. Not. Use. That gun for any circumstances other than danger. Remember Kylie, and everything we went through with her. I think it would be rather selfish to kill yourself now, don't you think?"_

John's brows furrowed.

_The machine beeps. Beep. Beep. John swallows as he pushes the door open. Two weeks, the doctor said, just two weeks left. John refuses to hear it. Sherlock's in the bed, everything hurts on him, his skin is pale, pale, pale. He smiles at the sight of his husband. His wedding band is the brightest thing on his body, the only thing the hospital let him keep. He asks how he's doing, John tells him that he's fine. Sherlock replies with the same. They talk about nothing important and then the day ends with the both of them sleeping in Sherlock's cot. Sherlock's body is cold, John provides the heat for the both of them._

Sherlock is standing in front of John now. He's smirking, there's some sadness in it. He grabs John's hand and slowly pulls him up.

_"Have you taken the chance to look at the clock? Mrs. Hudson is putting a search party out for you as we speak."_

John looks at the clock. He squints because his vision is slightly blurred. Sherlock was right, it was time for him to go and pick up Kylie from Mrs. Hudson. With Sherlock's urging, he was up and grabbing his coat to leave the flat. He turned around and saw Sherlock staring at him with fondness.

_"Why don't you go on without me? I promise I'll stay put until you come back."_

John felt like he wasn't in his body, like he was on auto-pilot. He nodded and then left the flat to get Kylie.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_"I promise I'll stay put until you come back."_

Sherlock said that before he left the flat. Sherlock said that. He still couldn't get over it. Sherlock was hugging him and kissing him. Sherlock was talking to him. A guy brushes shoulders with John and mutters something under his breath about John not watching where he was going, but John shrugged him off. He felt like he should tell somebody about it, but who could he tell? Would Kylie be able to see Sherlock? Could she talk to him and get all the answers to the questions that she would ask John just before bedtime? John let out a sigh. He should be happy about this, elated, over the moon, but he didn't know what he felt. God knows that he loves and misses Sherlock dearly, but to have him back like this? John shoved his hands into his pockets. There it was, the graveyard where Sherlock's buried. John let his mind wander as he passed the rows and rows of headstones.

Sherlock's body was still there, there is no doubt of that. John never believed in ghosts and hauntings and other paranormal things that people can't get enough of these days. Would he start to believe in them now? Sherlock would probably be the type of person to roam the earth, searching for that last case, or trying to perform one last experiment. Sherlock always hated sleep. The thought of Sherlock rising out of his grave and looking on at it with an irritated face made John chuckle, but his smile vanished and his mouth twisted. He almost broke the inside of his pockets because of it. Sherlock was...no. Sherlock is dead. He walks faster so that he can get away from the cemetery.

When he got to Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson swung the door open with Kylie standing right next to her, her big eyes were wide when she saw John standing there.

"Papa!" She screamed as she threw her arms around his legs. He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Hello, pup."

Mrs. Hudson placed a hand atop Kylie's head and gave it a few strokes. "I wasn't sure how late you were going to be, so I made her dinner already. I had a bit of Sheperd's Pie left from the day before, and she complained about being hungry so I figured why not?"

Mrs. Hudson's eyes flickered up to John's face. He wasn't in the mood for talking, he hardly was anymore. He looked distracted even. She stopped her retell of dinner time and changed the subject. "Well now, have you got everything, Kylie?"

Kylie nodded enthusiastically and turned to face her. She gave a bright smile and said, "Yes, Nana I do."

Mrs. Hudson brushed a finger against her nose and watched as John's hand connected with his daughter's. John was smiling, but it wasn't like the ones Mrs. Hudson used to see before Sherlock died. She thought that she would keep that to herself because she was sure that John knew too.

"We'd better be off now." John squeezed Kylie's hand and turned to walk away. Before they were able to leave Baker Street entirely, Kylie turned around and said, "Thank you for the food, it was delicious!"

Mrs. Hudson laughed and waved at the both of them. She had half a mind to tell John to call her sometimes, it got lonely being the only tenant in the flat. She tried renting it out, 221B, but every time she opened that door she expected to see Sherlock lounging about in his house clothes, or shooting holes in the wall. She would sit in her kitchen and close her eyes and swear that she could still hear John and Sherlock laughing, or arguing, or even hear their moans of pleasure after dark. She missed John terribly, and Sherlock too. She closed the door after they turned the street and went back to her flat. She washed all of the dirty dishes and then took a seat in her chair. It was completely quiet. She hated it.

John, on the other hand, walked hand in hand with Kylie and listened to her as she told him about school.

"I got the highest mark on the test today, Papa. The teacher said that I'm one of her 'brightest pupils.'"

Kylie looked up at John and saw that he wasn't really listening to her. She scrunched up her nose and said, "You know Papa, it's rude to ignore someone while they speak."

That got him.

"I'm...sorry, pup. What was it you were saying? You got the highest mark on the test?"

She nodded, but she didn't talk about it anymore.

"Are you alright, Papa?"

John's brows furrowed.

"I'm fine. Why, what's the matter?"

She shrugged.

"You're not you today. Did you go and see Angel Daddy today?" John's face paled, and for a moment, she was worried about what his reaction might be. He only shook his head and kept quiet. She let a few minutes pass before she talked again.

"Usually, when you go to see him, you get sad and then you drink from the bottles in the living room and then ask me to sleep with you that night. I only asked because I don't like seeing you like this. I want to see you happy, and I never see you happy anymore."

John almost wanted to ask her when she's seen him happy at all, but he knew the look on her face. Sometimes he cursed the fact that she was so smart. She might as well have come from him.

"You're only happy when you talk about Angel Daddy. That's why I ask you about him so much."

John frowned. He never knew that she did that purposefully, he's always dismissed as her wanting to know more about the parent she never got to meet.

"Sometimes I wonder if you love me as much as you love him."

John felt like an arse. Of course, she would think that, why wouldn't she? Why would she think that she was loved unconditionally from a father who only smiled when he talked about his dead husband? The guilt came at him full force, he stumbled a bit while he walked with her. He had to tell her, she had to know that he did love her, but he'll never get over Sherlock. She had to know that. He stopped in his tracks and knelt down. He positioned Kylie to face him and he waited to make sure that he had her attention.

"Kylie, you know that's not true, right? Of course I love you, I love your father too. I'll always love your father."

John wasn't surprised when Kylie looked like she wasn't buying it. He sighed, he was always rubbish at things like this, thank god Sherlock was even worse.

"Tell you what, when we get home, I'll open up the biscuits and then we'll watch movies tonight."

That got her attention.

"All night?"

John nodded, a smile was creeping onto his face.

"Until we both pass out. How does that sound?"

Kylie bit her lip and stared at him for a while. Then she finally smiled and nodded. John was relieved, he was glad to have such a forgiving daughter. He wasn't going to end up like his parents, he always told himself that. He was going to become better. He kissed her on the forehead and stood back up.

"But I don't want biscuits. Can you buy ice cream?"

John nodded. "What would you like?"

"I want chocolate."

She looked excited. He shrugged.

"I don't see why not."

She looked away, not before she made a small sound of happiness. It warmed John's heart.

"Take your bath, and then dinner, and then our movie night. Sound good?"

She squeezed his hand. "Great!"


	4. Chapter 4

The first half of the night was pleasant for the two. John returned to the flat, with Kylie's hand in his, and a carton of ice cream in the other. At first she wanted chocolate, but then she wanted the chocolate chip cookie dough, but she finally settled on fudge brownie. John made her promise that she would brush her teeth as soon as she was finished with her bowl, the last thing he needed was to take her to the dentist because he failed to tell her to protect her teeth. They sat at the table and ate their fill, John wasn't a big fan of chocolate on top of more chocolate, but he didn't want to make her feel bad. He initiated the conversation, he spoke to her about her classwork, and if she found any of the work challenging. He wasn't surprised to hear her say no. He smiled and wiped a stray hair from out of her face while she ate. She was such a beautiful girl. He loved her so much, but he loved Sherlock too. He wanted to tell Kylie that he loved her, he wanted to take her out on those daddy-daughter dates that everyone was so keen on doing. He wanted to be her father, but he was still Sherlock's husband. He took another spoonful of the ice cream. Kylie already finished, she was patiently waiting for John to be done as well so that they could commence their movie night. John wanted to show her some of his Bond movies, she agreed but only under the condition that he watched Lady and the Tramp, and her absolute favorite, Peter Pan. He smiled and nodded. She had a deal. 

When he finished his bowl, he took his and Kylie's to the sink to wash them out. He hated having to deal with the sticky residue in the morning if he let it out. He told her to go to his room and get the DVD player ready so that when he comes in, they can start the movie. When he heard her little feet scamper off, he started the faucet and lathered the sponge. 

_"She's getting to be so big now, isn't she."_

John smiled to himself. He was looking forward to seeing Sherlock again, he got worried when he didn't see him before.

"She's growing every day." 

Sherlock was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching as John washed both bowls with precision and thoroughness. 

_"How old is she going to be now?"_

"She turned five a few months ago." 

Sherlock nodded and then pointed towards the room. 

_"You shouldn't keep her waiting, John. I can almost hear her writhing on the bed."_

John turned the faucet off and then dried his hands. He walked over to the hallway and looked down to see if Kylie was behaving herself. He laughed as he heard her little groans of impatience. 

"Papa, come on!" 

John smiled and replied, "I'll only be a moment, Kylie." 

He turned back around to speak to Sherlock, but he was gone. John's smile wavered again at his disappearance. Why was he being teased like this? He was having a good night, and then he saw Sherlock again, but Sherlock was gone. Gone. Of course he was, John thought to himself, Sherlock isn't here. He was never one to believe in ghosts, or anything paranormal, but what if Sherlock was...

No. 

That's absolutely ridiculous. 

John was just going mad, yeah that's it. He's finally hit the wall. 

Sherlock died from Pancreatic Cancer, he was buried the week after his death. John mourned, and never stopped mourning. He told himself to get a grip. Sherlock would be beyond pissed off if he found out that John saw his ghost. John chuckled at the idea of Sherlock ranting about how, if ghosts did exist, he would not be one of them because it would be meaningless to wander the earth looking for that one thing to allow him to cross over. 

His eyes got teary. 

A glass of whiskey will be consumed after Kylie goes to bed. Maybe Sherlock will come back and wrap his arms around him again. Maybe John could feel the happiness he hasn't had since Sherlock's death. What is he saying, he has Kylie, Kylie is his daughter, she loves him unconditionally, he has to love her, he needs to love her; He needs Sherlock, Oh god, he needs him. Kylie runs out of the room wearing her pyjamas. A blue tank top and some decently-fitted shorts. She had her stuffed animal in her hand, her stuffed teddy she named Koda after watching the movie Brother Bear. Her hair was tucked behind her ears; she stared at John with a look of exasperation. 

"Hurry up! I want to watch the movies, Papa!" 

John blinked, forgetting all about her for a brief moment. 

 _'That's bad John. Don't forget about her'_ , he scolds himself silently. He told himself to write everything down on a post-it note later on. A list of reminders, just something to look at once in a while. He looks at her with a false smile and holds his hand out for her to latch on to.They head to his room to commence the movie night. John secretly hoped that Sherlock would show. When they're sat on the bed, watching Lady and the Tramp, he laughs to himself when the meatball scene comes up. He tried to get Sherlock to reenact it with him on their anniversary. Sherlock missed the whole point, as was expected, and snatched the noodle right out of John's mouth. He couldn't understand what John found so romantic about "Playing Tug O' War with their mouths" and proceeded to eat the rest of their shared meal by himself. John should have been angry, but he wasn't. He was captivated by the oblivious genius that sat across from him. Utterly and completely in love with the madman. 

Those seem like happier days. 

He kisses Kylie on the head. She smiles and snuggles closer to her father. So full of love and warmth; John wondered how he could steal that from her. 

"I wish I could see their faces, Papa. Jim Dear and Darling's face." 

John smiled into her soft locks and inhaled the scent of her lavender shampoo. 

"It's probably best that you keep the illusion that they're an attractive lot, the animators decided not to draw their faces, except for certain shots." 

"I don't care if they're ugly, I only want to see their faces." 

John kissed her head. 

"Sorry pup, not in this movie." 

She let out a sigh and watched  the rest of the movie in silence. She made it through Peter Pan and Dr. No. She liked the Bond movies, she only made it to Live and Let Die before she fell asleep entirely. John was looking forward to her acting like James Bond from now on. Sherlock did the same thing when he first saw it. John could barely keep a straight face when he heard Sherlock answer his phone by saying, "The name is Holmes. Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft was not amused. 

John figured that Kylie could sleep in the bed with him tonight, so he laid her down and covered her up before placing two kisses on her cheek and on her forehead. While he watched her sleep, he debated on whether or not he should drink that glass of whiskey now. 

_"You don't need it, John. Trust me, you're fine without it."_

There it was again. The dull aching in his chest whenever he heard that voice. He didn't respond to Sherlock, he only watched as he walked over to their sleeping daughter. 

_"Should have known you would show her those Bond movies. I think Mr. Bond might be your idol, John."_

"You enjoyed it when I showed you." 

Sherlock smirked. 

_"You got me."_

John crossed his arms. 

"Where were you?" 

Sherlock shrugged.

_"It doesn't matter John, you know how much I hate those movies that you put on for Kylie. I mean really, what sort of respectable restaurant owner serves dogs as if they're people?"_

"It's a children's movie, Sherlock. There is no logic in it." 

_"Did you know that Peter Pan is based off of the author's dead brother? Oh, and he is actually a rude boy and not very nice at all!"_

"It's alright, Sherlock. I think Kylie is smart enough to know that he isn't real, and neither is Lady or Tramp." 

Sherlock huffed, but then crawled under the blankets with Kylie. He patted the empty side of the bed. 

_"Come join us, John. It'll be just like old times."_

John gave a sad laugh. 

No it won't. 

He obliged anyway and laid in the bed. He wanted to talk to Sherlock, there was so much he wanted to say, but he became so tired. He fell asleep staring into Sherlock's soft blue eyes, and the faint smile he had spread across his lips. His sweet, gentle lips. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

John woke up before Kylie. It was always this way on weekdays. He would wake up and make them both some breakfast and then the smell of the food would have Kylie racing to the dinner table in no time. Sherlock was gone. He was expecting this, Sherlock would show up for only a moment, and then, whenever John would fall asleep, or lose his focus, he would vanish again just to pop back up and torment John some more.The sad thing is that John shouldn't be looking forward to it, the two-second visits. He shouldn't be happy to see that transparent figure staring at him with those eyes that he missed terribly. He shouldn't be willing to ignore his daughter, just to be graced with Sherlock's visit for however long it may be. 

Ella. Maybe Ella can shed some light on the situation. Will he tell her the whole truth, the half-truth, or not even tell her at all? Will he dance circles around her, and refuse to let her help him only to blame her for his issues later on? John sighed. He could argue with himself for days, but then he would still go, and nothing would change. The gun was looking more appealing to him by the minute. He could leave Kylie in the custody of Mrs. Hudson, or Mycroft, wherever he may be now. "Daddy was just sad, Kylie. He was so sad that he couldn't handle living anymore, so he killed himself." That's probably what they would say to her. She would just sit in the chair, or stand up, and stare at them wide-eyed as they explained it to her. She would know better, she would know that her father was being selfish, that he couldn't move on from his husband's death. "Now sweetie, he didn't do it to anger you, he did it because he didn't want to burden you with his problems. Your father was very sad, darling." 

What would she know? She never met Sherlock anyway. He could show her all the home videos, and show her all of the photos, but it wouldn't be the same of knowing him. She wasn't old enough to experience the full effect of living with Sherlock Holmes, of loving him. John did, on the other hand. He envied Kylie slightly for that. She doesn't have to go through this. The pain of waking up empty inside, she doesn't have to deal with the exhaustion of trying to get out of bed in the morning, and putting a fake smile on her face just so people wouldn't ask her what's wrong. He knew that they knew, but they tried to show him sympathy, and John would clench his teeth because it was all of the people who couldn't stand Sherlock when he was alive. Kylie doesn't know about any of that because she doesn't have to go through it. 

 _'And what would you know about it? You don't know a damn thing about her because you never took the time out to know her.'_  John could almost hear the voice in his head shouting at him. Wasn't it right? He was judging his daughter who he barely knew. He was disgusted at himself for even thinking such harsh thoughts. 

No more. No fucking more. He was not going to take out his anger on her. He was not going to do that to her because she was sweet and kind and blessedly innocent. She was his little girl. 

He flew to his dresser and pulled out his post-it notes, with his brand new Sharpie. He pulled the cap off and begun to scribble furiously on the small yellow paper. 

**_ A Reminder  _ **

  * **_She is your daughter, love her_**
  * **_You don't know what she's going through either_**
  * **_Don't neglect her in ANY WAY_**
  * **_Her happiness and well-being are MORE important than your next glass  
_**
  * **_What would Sherlock say?_**



John stared at the note through misty eyes. It came to this, he actually had to write himself a reminder to take care of his daughter. Maybe Social Services would do better than him. He looked back over on the bed and saw her sleeping still. She looked more fragile than ever. He placed his fist up to his mouth to stop himself from breaking down. He can't do this for much longer. He isn't as strong as he thought he was. 

He saw dark curls behind him through the mirror and sucked in his breath. The soft blue eyes looked worried as he was perched on the side of the bed. 

_"Go to her, John. Go see Ella, please."_

Sherlock begged him, therefore, he had to go. 

He nodded reluctantly. Sherlock's frown nearly killed him. 

 

Mrs. Hudson came to the flat this time, Kylie was still asleep and John didn't want to wake her so he phoned Mrs. Hudson, and under the condition that John pay for her cab, she came. John didn't pay for the taxi because he was using it himself. He told Mrs. Hudson to keep his whereabouts a secret from Kylie because he didn't want to worry her. Of course, his ex-landlady understood him completely and told him to go ahead. She kissed his cheek and gave him one of those smiles that she was so fond of during his stay at 221B. He could barely return the small one he gave. 

Ella never had many patients, mostly because they got better. John was one of the patients that couldn't get enough apparently. He was one of the "needier" ones. As long as he was giving her money, she wouldn't stop treating him. A part of him thinks that she feels bad for him, and she knows that he can't pay the real bill she gives out. John rolled his eyes. He should try looking for a job. Mycroft sends him money, but that's the only reason why he knows that the only Holmes brother is still alive. John can't believe he was considering giving him a call. 

"John." John's head shoots up as his name is called. His hands were pretty interesting at the moment. Ella is staring down at him with a genial smile, but the skeptic in him is telling him that she's giving the "Let's talk about your problems some more" smile. She waved her hand at him, which signaled that he could leave his chair and step into her office. John always felt smaller in here, and so he braced himself, just in case. He twiddled his thumbs and listened to the ambiance that surrounded them while they said nothing. He heard her pen scraping against the paper and his eyes darted over to her. 

"I've not said anything yet, and you're already writing down nonsense." 

She keeps her cool composure. 

"Correct. I wrote down that you were being unusually silent. No doubt you already read that." 

John folded his hands in his lap. She took this opportunity to speak again. 

"Why don't you keep me up-to-date about everything that's happened to you since the last time we met?" 

John shrugged. 

"Nothing happened." He keeps the straightest face he could muster. Ella isn't convinced. 

_"You've always been a shoddy liar, John."_

He turned to the right to see Sherlock sitting there with his coat on, smiling at him. 

"Not now, Sherlock..." He mutters. 

"What was that John?" 

He forgot about her for a moment. He shook his head and sniffed. 

"Nothing, Ella, just...just talking to myself is all." 

_"Why aren't you telling her about me? I know you want to, John, it is quite obvious."_

John grits his teeth and starts to rub his leg. 

_"John? John, what's the matter with your leg? Are you alright?"_

"My leg hurts is all." 

Ella's brow raises. 

"I....haven't asked about your leg, but if you want we can talk about it." 

"No, no I don't want to talk about it. We were talking about my day, right?" 

He looked to his right again and Sherlock was staring at him with the same eyes he gave him this morning. 

_"Are you sure you're alright, John?"_

John nodded. Ella was mildly concerned now. She placed a hand on his leg and then he jumped. They stared at each other before he realized what happened. He rose out of his chair abruptly. Ella watched on as he put his jacket on. 

"I am terribly sorry, but I can't do this. I promise I'll reschedule." 

He left the office before Ella could utter a word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are welcomed!


	6. Chapter 6

** The Blog of Dr. John. H. Watson **

**5th, March**

I'm still kicking around, don't worry, everyone, whoever is still keeping up with this blasted blog. Why did you all read it again? That's right, you were all obsessed with Sherlock's cases. Can't blog about those anymore. 

This isn't why I've posted again in almost a century. 

Kylie and I are doing well. Well enough. 

This was a mistake. This'll probably be the last post up here, I don't know. 

Feel free to ignore this. 

**5 comments**

* * *

 

_Good to hear from you again, John. Why don't we grab a pint or something later on this week?  
I'll give you a call when I'm free. _

**Greg Lestrade** **05 March 16:33**

* * *

_John, you're alive! How's Kylie? I haven't seen her in such a long time. She was two when we last met.  
Do you think she'll remember me? How about we take her out to the local park and catch up?_

_xx_

**Molly Hooper 05 March 16:34**

* * *

_Great to see you kicking around again, mate._

**Mike Stamford** **05 March 16:45**

* * *

_Please reschedule with me soon._

**Ella** **05 March 16:48**

* * *

_It was lovely seeing you again! Tell Kylie that I bought her a brand new colouring book that we can begin after school!_

**Mrs Hudson** **05 March 16:55**


	7. Chapter 7

John's phone went off again. That was the fifth time it vibrated and it wasn't even five yet. He closed his eyes and groaned. He shouldn't have written that stupid blog entry, he shouldn't have allowed them to comment on it. He should just delete that blasted blog. Yes, that's what he'll do, he'll delete it so he won't have to think about it ever again, and he won't have to worry about ignoring the comments anymore. Why did they have to care about him so much? They weren't even his friends, he didn't have any. They were Sherlock's friends, he was the one who introduced all of them, so that makes them his. Then again, you don't go out to pubs with people who aren't even your friends, and you don't invite them to parties, and you don't allow them to watch your kids or see your dying husband in hospital one last time.

Maybe he should respond to the comments. There are only five, and he doesn't have to reply in paragraphs. No, no, he knows that he won't do it. It'll be like a chore to him; he won't get around to doing it until he feels that it's absolutely necessary.

He hasn't seen Greg in some time. Does Greg even know what Kylie looks like now? He barely saw her when she was a baby because, well, John didn't have the luxury of parading his baby around like new parents usually do because he was tending to his terminally ill husband around the clock. Molly hasn't seen her since the funeral. She would fawn all over Kylie as soon as she laid eyes on her. Maybe it wasn't for John to decide. With a sigh, he turned towards his room and called Kylie's name. In no time, she came running out of the room and right into her papa's arms. He smiled and kissed her head, and then her cheek. God he loved her so much.

"You called me, papa?"

"Yes, I did. I have a question to ask you."

She released her hold on his waist and let him bend down to reach her level. She grinned at her papa and tilted her head slightly so that he knew she was listening.

"So listen, pup, do you remember auntie Molly?"

She squinted, but then she shook her head. John expected as much. She barely knew how to talk then.

"How about uncle Greg?"

Another head shake. "I know uncle Mycroft, when are we going to see him again?"

John shrugged. He didn't want to answer the question, he didn't know what to say to her. He could have said that she will never see her uncle again, but that would only upset her, he could lie and say tomorrow, but he didn't want to get her hopes up. He only offered a smirk and patted her head.

"Why don't you give him a ring later on today to find out when he'll stop off and see you?"

He specifically said to see "her" instead of "them". He doesn't know if he'll be able to face Mycroft, not until he stops seeing Sherlock in his older brother's face. She seemed satisfied and nodded.

"Anyway, how would like to see your aunt today? She offered to take you to the park and everything."

Kylie seemed a bit unsure.

"But I don't know her, papa."

"Don't worry Kylie, I'm coming with you. I know that you aren't too fond of being around strangers."

 _'Yet you can stand to be around me every day...'_  He thought bitterly. She hugged him once more, catching him off guard and causing him to tip back at the force of her body colliding into his. She whispered, "I love you, papa." 

John didn't respond. He wanted to say it to her, he wanted to tell her that he loved her so much, she was the one thing that still tied him to the earth, but he couldn't say it. He cursed himself and shut his eyes out of disappointment. For all of the times he scolded Sherlock for lacking the emotional support towards Kylie, he was doing just the same. She was going to hate him when she got older, and she would come to resent Sherlock because he's the reason why John couldn't say three simple words. He had no problem telling Sherlock each and every time he saw him. He wouldn't even blame her if she did. 

"My darling pup." 

That's the closest he would get. She accepted it, and he was grateful. Kylie let go of her father and then scurried off into her room, shutting the door after she entered. John was on his knees in the middle of the kitchen, staring down the hall. He had to keep trying, for her. He got up and made his way over to the collection of the various alcohol bottles he bought while Kylie was at school. His choice for today was going to be Jack Daniels, that's the one that everyone picks, it's the bottle that depressed, lonely sods like John drink. He had to be quick with this glass, Kylie was awake now and the last thing he needed to explain was why he needed a drink before dinner. There, he managed to pour himself a glass without so much as a noise coming from Kylie's room. He had to go without ice this time, but that was alright, he welcomed the familiar burn down his throat. He wasn't so fond of the other burn, the one where he had to swallow his tears every time he looked at the empty side of his double bed. Those were the nights where he had to sleep with Kylie. 

He takes a sip. As soon as he does it he regrets it, he looks to his left and sees Sherlock staring at him with those sad eyes again. John's smile is bitter as he stares at the empty glass. 

"You weren't supposed to see that." 

_"But I did, and you know how much I hate it."_

John reaches out to grab the bottle again, but he makes the mistake of looking at Sherlock. He hates disappointing him. 

_"Get rid of the bottle, John, of all of them."_

John's brow rose. 

"No." 

_"Why not? You have no reason to drink, John. Think about our daughter."_

"I am thinking about her. This...this helps me calm down, Sherlock, it helps me think better. I...It's my way of coping." 

John knew the look in Sherlock's eyes. He could smell the bullshit. John did it to himself, he almost hoped that Sherlock would give him a rundown like he used to do. John had to bite his cheek to prevent the smile creeping up on his face. This is the smile that Kylie should have gotten. 

_"That's exactly what I told myself when I was getting high. I told myself that I needed it, that it was a coping mechanism for all of the people that hated me, for the way they treated me. I told you that drugs were the only way I could keep my brain focused. I was wrong, John. Do you want to know why I'm wrong?"_

"Why is that?" 

Sherlock was in front of John now. Touching his hand, caressing his face, stroking his hair. 

_"Because I had you."_

John could feel Sherlock's other hand gently guide the cup back to its rightful place on the counter. He didn't need Sherlock to make him let go, the thought, the sensation of Sherlock touching him forced John to obey. John opened his mouth to speak, to tell Sherlock that he would give anything to have Sherlock back again, to scream at the heavens for taking Sherlock in the first place. He needed to be angry, he wanted to be angry, but there was nothing to be angry at. He resolved to suffer in silence, just like he always has and will continue to do. He wanted Sherlock to go away, but if Sherlock left him then he would be alone again. He kept telling himself that he wasn't, he had his daughter in the room, she was the only thing he had left. His heart told him that he was lying, he would never be complete again without Sherlock, but his brain told him to be rational, that John Watson was a rational person who would get through this, just like he got through Afghanistan, and the sleepless nights that came after. He was a soldier, and soldiers fought or else they die. He had to be strong, he had to, he had to...

He wants Sherlock to stop touching him. He wants Sherlock to stop killing him with the soft words that he spoke, and the touches that he ached for. Just let him drink! 

"I don't have you anymore, Sherlock." 

He needs to stop being so vulnerable. Sherlock hates sentiment. 

_"You have Kylie. She's so happy to have you as her father and you know this. Would you throw everything you have away because you grew attached to the bottle? John, you are so much better than this, I know you are. I wouldn't have married you if you weren't."_

John chuckles. He brings Sherlock's hand up to his face and peppers little kisses all over his bony wrist. No hospital bracelet, no clammy skin, his Sherlock, this is his Sherlock. He feels Sherlock trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he holds on tighter. 

"No, Sherlock, please don't...stop teasing me like this." 

"Papa?" 

John's heart stops for a second. His eyes widened. How long had she been standing there? When did she leave her room? Why did she have to ruin everything? The hand that was holding Sherlock's wrist is empty now. So is his body. He turns around and faces Kylie, who is staring up at him with an expression he cannot place. She must have seen him, she wouldn't be acting this way if she didn't. God, how does he explain this to her? Why couldn't she have just waited in the room for a bit longer? John thinks back to the post-it he made. He inhales deeply and gives her the widest, fakest smile he can muster. 

"What is it, pup?" 

She holds up his mobile. There's a message from Molly. 

"I was getting a cup of water when your phone started buzzing. I thought that you would want it." 

He wants to be mad at her for interrupting his moment with Sherlock, but he can't bring himself to do it. She doesn't know what's going on, she's only doing what she thinks is right. She only wants to help. He takes the phone from her and pats her head. 

"Thank you. Dismissed, soldier." 

She beams at his playful smirk. She gives him a salute and then scurries off into the kitchen to get her cup of water. When he's sure that she was gone, his smile disappeared as quickly as it showed up and he unlocked his phone to read the message. 

_**'Hey! I was wondering if you read the comment that I posted on your blog.** _   
_**Of course you did, why wouldn't you have, you just didn't have the time to reply.** _   
_**I'm rambling. Sorry, I just wanted to know if you considered my offer of taking Kylie to the park** _   
_**I miss her terribly and I want to see how the both of you got on after...you know.** _   
_**Sorry again. Just give me a text/ring whenever you're available!** _

**_xx_ **

**_Molly'_ **

John considered it for a minute. Maybe some fresh air would do them both some good. He started typing away. 

 _**'Hey Molly, just got your message.  
** _ **_We can meet up at the park tomorrow, whenever you're free._  
** **Lord knows Kylie's been pestering me about going there.**

_**JHW'** _

A minute didn't even pass before John's phone vibrated again. 

 _**'Splendid! I'll text you when my shift's up tomorrow.  
** _ _**This is so exciting, I can't wait to see you both again!** _

_**xx** _

_**Molly'** _

He wished that he could share her excitement.

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was a little bit after five when John got the text from Molly, telling him that her shift was over and she was on her way to their meeting spot. John was already dressed, it was a habit for him. Kylie was still lying about in her pyjamas. John didn't mind it so much, it wasn't like she had school anyway. He'd just finish making them both dinner, an early one since he expected them to return home late. It all depended on how much fun Kylie had while they were out with Molly. Ah, Molly, John wondered if she was still the same person from when they first met. Judging by the message she sent, she probably hasn't. That's good, as far as he was concerned, he was the only one allowed to change. He grimaced at how selfish he just sounded. Kylie came skipping into the kitchen and watched as her father cleaned their dishes. It was always the same two plates, bowls, and cups that they used. Kylie always wondered why that was since they had cupboards filled with all kinds of glassware. 

"Papa." 

Without facing her, he responded, "Yes, pup?" 

She started to slide her tiny finger across the clean counter top. 

"Why do we always use the same dishes? We have lots of plates and bowls and cups inside of the cupboards." 

She saw the way John's hand paused as he was scrubbing down his plate. Wasn't like he ate much anyway. 

"Sherlock used them. Most of them were used for his experiments, not sure how many of them are clean enough to use." 

She looked up at the two in front of her, just above John's head. 

"If you think they're dirty, why don't you just toss them in the rubbish bin?" 

John sniffed. She didn't mean to make him angry. This was the reason why she hardly ever had conversations about her father, either John got upset or sad enough that he would drink from his bottle and won't stop until he fell asleep. She's only seen him do it once before, but after she told him about what happened, he told her that he would never do it again. She trusted him enough to take his word. He hasn't done it since then. 

"Why would I throw them out?" 

She shrugged. 

"It takes up a lot of space, doesn't it? We don't use them..." 

"Get dressed, Kylie. We're going to the park to see aunt Molly." 

"Yes, Papa." 

She hung her head and walked back into her room. She never wanted to see him upset, she tried everything in her power to get him to smile. She felt bad for saying that to him, she knew that he wasn't going to throw them out, not if they belonged to Angel Daddy. She almost wanted to apologize right then and there, but he wouldn't accept it. He had to calm down first. John, on the other hand, let out a sigh. She was only trying to start a conversation with him, and she told him previously that the only way to do so was by bringing up Sherlock. He scrubbed the dish harshly, and for a split second he was worried that he might break it or chip it. Thankfully he wasn't that upset. All he had to do today was see Molly, that's it. He just had to sit on the bench and talk with her while Kylie played until her little heart gave out. This was something normal parents did, right? They hung out with old friends and went to parks with their children, just to feel like they belonged. John could do that. Normal was something he could handle being. If only for a few hours. He washed his hands to remove any extra soap that might've found its way to his hand while he was washing. He went over to his collection and poured himself two glasses of whiskey. He was running low, he would have to buy more soon. Or maybe not at all. He'll figure it out as the day went along. 

A few minutes later, Kylie came out of her room dressed in a pair of blue jeans, and a pink and white striped shirt. She needed John's help with her hair. He managed to make a ponytail out of her long tresses, he had to take her to get her hair cut. Maybe Mrs. Hudson could do it, she used to cut Sherlock's hair for him and did a pretty good job too. He would have to ask Kylie sometime this week. He slid on her denim jacket and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She gave him a smile and returned one of his own. 

"Are you ready to go?" 

She nodded and held his hand as they left the flat. 

 

They arrived at the park some minutes later. John and Kylie made their way over to the jungle gym. Surprisingly, there were almost no children playing. At most there were four or five kids playing a game that they no doubt created with their imagination. John gave them twenty minutes before their moms, who clearly came together, would tell them to wrap it up. He didn't have to look far to see the familiar face grinning madly at him and waving him over. He put a false smile on his face and walked over to her. He couldn't believe it, she looked exactly the same from when he saw her all those months ago. The last time he remembered seeing her was at Sherlock's funeral, her lips quivered the whole service, and he could barely see her face behind the handkerchief she used. She cried for the both of them that day. He admitted that her smile was a nice change from the face she wore then. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. 

"Oh my god, is that my little Kylie?" 

Immediately Kylie ran behind her father's legs to protect herself from the strange woman headed her way. Molly stopped just in front of John and crouched down to meet her eyes. Molly's smile shortened as she waited for Kylie to speak. 

"Papa says that I'm not to talk to strangers." 

Molly laughed and brought a hand to her cheek. 

"I'm no stranger, Kylie. I'm a good friend of your parents." 

Kylie slowly moved from behind John's leg. 

"I've known you since you were a newborn, I've even watched you a few times while your parents were...while they were out." 

John was thankful for Molly's pause. He didn't need to hear it, he knew that she was going to say while Sherlock was getting his chemotherapy, and that was the last thing that he needed. Kylie looked up at John with wide eyes. John gave a soft smile and nodded. 

"She's telling the truth, Kylie. There's no need to hide." 

Kylie thought for a moment before she decided that he was right and walked up to Molly. Molly pulled Kylie into the tightest hug she could muster. When she released Kylie, John could see the poor girl's chest rising as she tried to catch her breath. Molly stood back up and motioned towards the empty jungle gym. 

"Looks like we got it to ourselves today!" 

Kylie smiled widely and ran off to go join the other children in whatever game it was that they were playing. By now, it looked like it had dissolved into nothing more than a simple game of freeze tag. John was happy to see that they accepted her into their little crew without any hassle. Back in his day, you had to do some stupid dare or something along those lines just to prove that you were cool enough to join. Maybe that was just John's friends who did that to him, he wouldn't be surprised, honestly. He took a seat with Molly on the bench just in front of the playground, in perfect view of Kylie. They didn't talk much, they just sat and watched Kylie play with her new friends. John tried to ignore the moms sitting on the bench adjacent from him. He wasn't too fond of their lustful gazes. 

"Don't look now, John, but I think those ladies fancy you." 

John didn't even have to guess.

"I think you're right. Too bad I'm not looking for a relationship." 

Molly sat up. 

"So you have thought about finding someone else?" 

John looked over at Molly with a blank expression. She shrank back into the wooden bench. 

"Dumb question, sorry." 

He didn't respond. Molly looked down at her lap for a while before attempting another conversation. John wanted to go home already. It was a mistake, he knew it was. 

"She's so big now. Kylie, I mean. I almost expected to see you show up with the same baby I used to babysit. Sometimes I hate the fact that time goes on. Some days I wish that I could make things the way they used to be, you know what I mean. I'd wish that I would come down to the morgue and Sherlock would already be down there, fussing about with some piece of evidence. I'd wish that you would be with him, watching him that smile that you used to wear, and I would laugh whenever you two got into it." 

John looked over at Molly, who wasn't even looking at him anymore. He could see her eyes following Kylie around, she probably forgot that they were sitting there, watching her. Molly uttered a short laugh, John could see the tears in her eyes. He didn't want her to cry, not right now. When you're trying not to break down yourself, watching somebody else cry doesn't help your case. He thought that maybe he should comfort her, be the good person. He can't even will himself to move a limb. 

"I'm sorry John, this is not why you came here. I just...seeing you again...I miss him a lot." 

She hastily wiped away all the tears that barely made it past her cheeks and smiled even wider. 

He couldn't comfort her like she probably wanted her to. God knows that he wasn't the person for that. He snaked his arm around her waist, just to let her know that he could sympathize with her. 

"Don't we all Molly. Don't we all..." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll build more upon their meeting in the next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

"How does Kylie deal with it? With Sherlock's passing, I mean. She was so little when it happened, I doubt that she even remembers him at all." 

John knocks back another glass. He thinks back to that day in the park, with Molly. She asked John that, and he didn't answer her. All he did was shrug and say, "She's...she's sad that he's gone. He was still her father, mind you. Beyond that, you would have to ask her." 

Molly wipes away the tears that are drying on her face. She glances over at the little girl who looks like she's having the time of her life. She smiles to herself. John looks on with a blank stare. Why did he agree to come out with her? He knew that this was going to end up being about Sherlock. She loved him, and they hadn't talked for so long. 

"How's she getting on, John? In school, is she making friends?" 

He gives a tight smile and shrugs.

"These are questions you could be asking her, you know." 

Molly's mouth twitches. 

"I'm only trying to make conversation with you, John. She looks like she's having so much fun, why would I interrupt her to talk about school?" 

"You did ask to see her, Molly. You've only said a few sentences to her. Who knows when you'll see her again." 

Molly's eyebrow raised. "What do you mean by that, John?" 

He shrugged. 

"Nothing, Molly. Ignore me." 

He tries to avoid eye contact with her, but he can see out the corner of his eye, she's giving him a look. She's judging him no doubt. He wants to tell her something, to say that she had no right to do that. He was being paranoid, quite possibly. She faced Kylie again and he saw her smile. He wanted to go home. He would say that he was sorry for being an arse and that he hopes that he can see her again. Nothing happens. He just sits there and allows his focus to blur as he forgets to blink. He can the little blob that is Kylie, but his eyes are watery now. 

He should blink. 

"Look less sad, John." 

He should try harder, right? 

He should, but he can't. He can't do much of anything anymore. Hell, he barely manages to exist. He doesn't even know if he can call himself a parent anymore. Poor Kylie, she could've had the best life, she could have been so much happier if she wasn't John's daughter. There are some nights where he can't even stand to look at her. He's probably hurt her so bad and on so many different occasions. 

He swallows another shot. Greg stares at him with slight concern. 

That day ended with him leaving with Kylie, who couldn't stop smiling even if she tried. This day is going to end with John getting shitfaced while Greg watches. Kylie was at home with...who was it? Was it Molly, or was it, Mrs. Hudson? Good, this is good, he can't think straight. Maybe the world won't seem so lonely now. Where was Sherlock? When's the last time he's seen him? God, he misses him. Greg slowly moves his drink to his mouth, all without taking his eyes off of John. He invited him out a day after Molly did. John was already typing in his polite refusal, as well as an excuse about no one being available to watch Kylie. Then Greg sent him another text telling him that he would treat him to drinks. John erased his original message and replaced it with a "Sure" and then pressed send. Kylie watched some telly with him and they ended up falling asleep on his favorite armchair. Kylie's little body fit perfectly across John's chest and torso. 

He could have sworn he saw Sherlock sitting on his old armchair, smiling at the both of them. 

Now here he is. It's nearing ten at night on a workday, and John is sure that he would be stopped from drinking soon. If not by the bartender, then Greg, though he was sure that it was going to be Greg. 

"How've you been, John? Is everything alright? You and Kylie getting on okay?" 

John was able to fake his smile better. He was tipsy now, won't be long until he would have to be escorted home. 

"We've been doing...alright." 

Greg was speaking with a hint of concern for his friend. 

"That's good to hear. You've been working?" 

John shook his head and slid the empty shot glass down a bit. 

"Mycroft has taken the liberty of paying my rent. He doesn't want to see me and Kylie on the streets." 

Greg nodded in approval. "That's very nice of him." 

He takes a sip of his glass. No one talks, but Greg doesn't seem disconcerted in the least. 

"So, uh, Greg, had any cases?" 

Greg smiled and said, "You remind me of someone who used to ask me the same question." 

John smiles, but it's a smile filled with bitter pain. Greg stops smiling and awkwardly takes another sip of his drink. Almost gone now. John looks over at the bartender and raises his empty glass. The bartender gives a wry smile. 

"Oi, what number are we at now, mate?" 

John shrugs, he doesn't share any of the amusement. 

"I lost count after two." 

The bartender slides down another drink and John stops it with the palm of his hand. 

"Last one for tonight. Sorry mate, gotta pay the bills somehow, and I'm not about to lose this job so that you can get pissed." 

John gave him a curt nod. He understood, he was going to have to go home anyway. He takes his time with this drink. After a few minutes passed, Greg set down his empty glass and let out a sigh. John sat up a bit to listen to whatever it was that he was going to say. Greg folded his hands and stared at John. His eyes were red and bloodshot from a long day at work. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin for a brief moment, he was getting his thoughts together. Finally, he set down his hand and started to speak. 

"Look, I know that you haven't been having the best time of your life right now, not since Sherlock...since Sherlock passed. I understand that you miss him, and you have every right to, hell, I miss him!" 

John took another short sip of his drink. Oh no, the lump in his throat is back. 

"What I'm trying to say, rather poorly I might add, is that...I'm...here if you want to talk. We all are, Molly, Mrs. Hudson..." 

"I already have Ella. She's the person I go to talk to." He sounded more snappish than he wanted to. He was trying his hardest not to end the night on a sour note. Greg seemed unaffected. He was more concerned about getting his words out because there was a chance that John would have never heard them if he was completely sober. 

"That's not what I mean, and you know that. All I'm saying is, you got people who care." 

John's eyes hurt, and he needs to get home. He finishes off his drink and then looks up at the bartender again. It's Sherlock. He doesn't look very happy with John. John nearly falls off his stool. Greg moves to catch him, but then relaxes when he sees that John was in no immediate danger. Sherlock takes John's glass and throws it into the sink to be cleaned later. 

_"A pub, John."_

John looked like he wanted to say something, but he remembered. He's in a public place, with a friend. The last thing that needs to happen is his waking up in a cell. John speed walks over to the coat rack and gets his jacket. Greg follows after him. 

"John? John! Do you want me to walk you home? Call a cab? I don't think you should be walking tonight." 

John throws his jacket on and looks at Greg. 

"I'll be alright, don't worry about me." It's not hard to see why Greg is in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something else, but John was already out the door, leaving a worried Detective Inspector behind. John wasn't far from his home, he just had to walk a few blocks. He almost trips over a crack not too far away from the pub. Maybe he should hail a cab. 

 

When he gets home, Mrs. Hudson and Molly greet him at the door. Mrs. Hudson doesn't notice that John doesn't look right, but she tells him that Kylie already went to bed. Molly chimes in and says that Mrs. Hudson cooked her famous beef stew and that there was some left over in case he got hungry later on. John tries his hardest to smile and nod without telling them to leave. They do, eventually, and the first thing John does is go right to his alcohol and pop open the whiskey bottle that only had a few cups left in it. He doesn't stop until he had to wobble over to the armchair to take a seat. There's Sherlock, staring at him with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

_"More liquor, John? What was drinking the whole pub dry not good enough for you?"_

John shakes his head. 

"Just let me be, Sherlock, I'm not hurting anyone." 

_"You're hurting yourself, you idiot. Stop this, get rid of those bottles."_

John stared at him for a long time before he actually did anything. He didn't want to fight, he wanted to kiss him. He didn't want to do this. He wants Sherlock back. He doesn't want Sherlock to leave, but he doesn't want to hear anybody tell him how to cope. What did they know? Molly wasn't married, and Greg and his wife weren't happy. He wasn't even going to mention Mrs. Hudson's marriage. 

"I'll get rid of them once they're empty." 

Sherlock's face went from anger to sorrow. John clumsily made his way back over to his dwindling collection of bottles filled with various types of whiskey and tried to pour himself another glass. Sherlock was shouting his name, but he wasn't responding. 

_"Why are you doing this to yourself, John?"_

"Because..." if he were sober, he would have never said it out loud. That's the thing with being drunk, you can say what you couldn't say while sober. If he was lucky, he probably won't remember anything in the morning. 

_"Because why, John?"_

"Because it makes it stop. The pain of your death, it makes it stop for a little while, only a short while." 

Sherlock stood there with his mouth hanging open. 

_"John..."_

"Jesus Christ it gets so lonely without you, Sherlock. You have no idea how bad it gets. Why'd you have to get sick? Why'd you have to leave me alone?" 

For once, Sherlock was speechless. John sniffled and then gulped the drink down. 

_"Everyone dies eventually, John. You know that because you're a doctor. I didn't leave you alone either, John, you still have Kylie."_

John's eyes glazed over again because he knew that he was going to hate himself with what he was going to say next. 

"Kylie can't help me..." 

When he heard her tiny voice say, "Papa?" 

He was right. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are welcomed!


	10. Chapter 10

John refused to look her in the eye. He knows that she heard him, she heard every word that he said about her. She didn't have to be around to hear the whole argument that he had, but if she was standing there, or even if she was walking toward the living room during his fight, she would have made it just in time to hear him say, "Kylie can't help me." And now here she was, staring at him with those big eyes that made John weak. It hurt him to look into those blue eyes, because every time he did, he saw all the trust and the love she had for him and he couldn't stand the feeling of betrayal. When she slept with him, he would stroke her hair and apologize, and then tell her that maybe she should have been born earlier, just a year earlier, she wouldn't have to deal with this, with her father who never got over his grief. Then he starts to whisper to Sherlock and tell him that he shouldn't have gotten sick. He made it seem like Sherlock was the reason for the cancer, but it wasn't. Cancer was merciless with its victims. You could be as happy as was allowed, as depressed as was possible, if Cancer chose you then there was nothing you could do about it. 

He tried to ignore Sherlock's pitiful stare toward Kylie. What was he going to say? How was he going to get out of this one? He blinked a few times, and then tried to get on one knee without falling over from his blurred sight. 

"What is it, Kylie?" 

She brought her hand down from her eye and yawned. She cocked her head to the side. 

"Who are you talking to?" 

John wanted to look back at Sherlock, but he couldn't. 

"It's...no one, pup, ignore me." 

Her nose shriveled up. 

"You smell funny." 

John just smiled and stroked her hair. Maybe he would take her to get a hair-cut, he needed one too. That could probably be their first daddy-daughter outing. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rested his lips there. She smelt like the vanilla scented body wash she insisted on him buying. He wasn't worthy of being her father. She deserved another family, someone better than himself. 

"You ask too many questions. Why don't you go to my bed and I'll join you in a second." 

She looked like she had more questions to ask him, but she was so tired that she simply nodded and he watched as she walked out of the living room. He let out a sigh and then looked over at Sherlock, who hasn't moved from his spot on the couch. John's face hardened the longer he stared at Sherlock, finally, he said, "What is it?" 

Sherlock shook his head and replied,  _"She doesn't deserve this."_

John's eyes danced away from Sherlock's as he nodded. 

"I know." 

After a pregnant pause, John forced himself to stand up straight and looked back at Sherlock. 

"I don't either." 

Sherlock didn't respond, he just watched as John stumbled his way down the hall to his room and already found Kylie snuggled in the duvet, sleeping soundly. John stared at her for, however long, he did not know. He sat down on his side of the bed and slid his shoes off. He didn't change into his pajamas because the alcohol was starting to make him drowsy. He just wanted to sleep, he wanted to lay down and just sleep. Kylie had her back turned to him, he wasn't going to bother her, she needed the sleep, she had school in the morning. He stared up at the ceiling, but then he felt the room spinning and so he closed his eyes and let sleep take him. 

_He opens the door with slight difficulty, as he was carrying Sherlock in his arms. Sherlock insisted that John not do that, but John didn't care who saw. He loved Sherlock Holmes, they were married for six hours now. The room is filled with giggles and laughs as the husbands fooled around on the bed. John nibbled on Sherlock's collarbone, and then he progressed to his long and wonderful neck. Sherlock breathed out his name every time John made his way to one of Sherlock's sensitive a_ _reas. John pulls away and for a moment all they do is stare at each other, both are out of breath from the excitement that filled their bodies. John could never get over how beautiful Sherlock was, so handsome, so perfect, how wonderful it was to finally have him._

_Sherlock's brows furrow, he asks John what is he staring at. Without thinking, John crashes his lips into Sherlock's and in-between kisses he mutters "I love you" over and over again. The only thing that Sherlock responds with is "I know."_

**_"I know."_   
**

When he wakes up the next morning, he feels shooting pain in his head. He expected it to happen, he deserves it, quite frankly. Kylie is already gone, he can hear her singing in the bathroom. Good girl, he thinks to himself. He rubs his eyes and feels the moisture on his cheeks and on the bags of his eye. He promised himself that he wasn't going to do this. He can't even trust himself anymore. He wiped away any tell-tale signs from his face and then got up from the bed and walked to the kitchen. He fixed himself a cup of water and dropped the seltzer into the liquid and watched it dissolve. He took a sip from it and heard Kylie open the door. She was already dressed and walked over to John with a smile on his face.

"Good morning, pup."

"Morning, papa."

She took a seat at the table and opened up the banana resting in the nearly empty fruit bowl. John took a few more sips before continuing the conversation.

"Kylie, I was...thinking about something, and I felt like I should ask you before I did anything else."

She swallowed.

"What is it?"

"Should I...should I get a job? I know your uncle Mycroft gives us money but...I won't if you don't want me to."

Kylie didn't respond. She took another bite of her banana and just looked at John.

"Will that make you happy, papa?"

John shrugged. Nothing could make him happy anymore.

"I don't know."

She hopped out of her chair and walked over to him. He felt her little arms wrapped around his waist. His hand moved down to rub her back.

"I only want you to be happy, papa."

He wasn't sure that was possible. Why was she so good to him? How could she love him, when he had to force himself to love anybody who wasn't Sherlock? Why was she so kind?

"Thank you, pup. I'll consider what you said, for now, let's get you to school."  

She looked up at him, and gave a faint smile. She nodded and let him get ready to head out. 


	11. Chapter 11

John always found the flat lonely whenever Kylie went off to school. He could always go to Ella, he supposed, he wasn't going to go to her office. He wasn't in the mood to be interrogated. Then he realized that this wouldn't be an issue if he had a job, but who was he kidding, he was never going to go. He sighed and then walked into the living room. He took a seat in his armchair and stared at the blank telly. This was the first time John looked at his reflection for an extended amount of time. He grimaced, he looked at the stubble on his chin, and on his cheeks. He ran his hand across his left cheek. His hair hadn't been brushed or combed for at least a few days, on the occasion that John did go outside, he would only run his fingers through his hair and deem it fit for society. He sighed, Sherlock would have tore him apart for going outside like that, of course, he would secretly be turned on by John's growing beard. John looked over at the kitchen. The dishes could use a washing. He moved his legs to get up, but his body felt heavy, he couldn't move from his chair. He sat back and bent over so that his elbows were resting on his thighs, and his hands were covering his eyes. The pressure he applied to his eyes were starting to hurt, but he wasn't doing anything to stop the pain. The dishes needed to be washed, his hair needed to be done, he needed a shave, he needed company. 

He was alone again. God he felt so alone. 

He talk to Ella, to Greg, and to Molly as many times as he wanted, but it couldn't get rid of the void in his heart. It ached the most at night, which is why he dulled the pain by downing as much of the bottle as he could. Of course, the effects would only last so long. Sometimes he would just lay in bed until Kylie came and practically dragged him out of bed so that he could walk her to school. He would see her staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He never said anything to her when he was like that, he would only respond to her comments and eventually she would give up and they would continue in silence. Sometimes it felt like she wasn't happy to come home to him. On his bad days, that is. He would come and pick her up from Mrs. Hudson's flat and when she laid her eyes on him, he would see her smile falter, he never brought that up either. He wondered what Mrs. Hudson must have thought of him. Was she disappointed in him? Did she pity him? He would never know because he would never ask. He let out a choked sob, maybe he could have a good cry, he was alone, after all. John sat up in his chair and then he waited, just one tear, that's all. He couldn't even do that. 

"Dishes. The dishes need to get done." 

He got up and then walked over to the sink. He squeezed the soap onto the sponge and then he started to scrub the dirty plates. He helped himself to a bowl of the leftover stew that Mrs. Hudson cooked when she babysat for Kylie while John went and got pissed. He picked up Kylie's bowl and smiled to himself. It was a Peter Pan bowl that he bought for her a while back. She pleaded for it and at first John couldn't understand why she was begging him to buy something so insignificant, then he realized that that was something Sherlock would say. Peter Pan is her favorite movie, it would only make sense for her to want everything that had the red-headed fairy painted on it. John remembered the days where he wanted every single thing that had James Bond on it. Harry threatened to rip one of his posters when they were fighting once. That seems like it was so long ago. He finished washing the dishes and then made his way back over to the living room. He tried to sit down and continue staring at the telly, but then he caught the sight of that familiar amber resting on the table and he knew what was going to happen next. 

 

He managed to not get drunk, but he couldn't help but get a nice buzz from his drink. He had to get Kylie, she was probably at Mrs. Hudson at this time. He threw his coat on and then left the flat. He could walk straight, that was good. He could form thoughts, which meant that he would be able to get Kylie and bring her back without anybody being none the wiser about his drinking. He managed to limit himself this time, no Sherlock, no Kylie, nothing stopped him this time. He crossed the street and was now in front of Mrs. Hudson's flat. He half-expected the knocker to be crooked, but it was straightened. Sherlock would have fixed it as soon as he saw it. John knocked on the door, and not too long after he knocked, Mrs. Hudson opened the door. John noticed that she wasn't smiling, as she usually did. Immediately, John was worried and said, "Mrs. Hudson, what's the matter? Is Kylie okay?" 

She sounded like she was crying. 

"Oh John..." 

She trailed off and cried. John was on alert, as gently as he could, he moved her out of the way and made his way to her flat. Once he was inside he saw Kylie sitting there, she was unharmed and wearing a smile. John let out the breath he was holding. She was alright, of course she was okay. What he wasn't expecting was Mycroft Holmes sitting at the table with her, stroking her hair and staring at her like she was a cherished doll. He knew better, he knew that Mycroft did love her, she was his niece, she was the last thing he had that reminded him of Sherlock. If she wasn't their daughter, then John would not be getting the money that Mycroft sent. Everything seemed okay, she was smiling at him, and Mycroft didn't seem like he was in any immediate hurry to get to his next meeting or whatever he did. That still didn't explain why Mrs. Hudson was crying. What was it that Mycroft wasn't telling him? 

"So glad that you could join us, John." 

John's hand balled into a fist. 

"Join you for what?" 

At that, Mycroft rose out of the chair and held his hand out for Kylie to grab. She happily took it and then reached out for her father's. Mycroft and John walked out of the flat, leaving a snivelling Mrs. Hudson alone. John didn't understand how he missed the black car parked right outside of the flat. He opened the door and let Kylie crawl in first, then John, and then he got in and closed it. Kylie was resting her head on John's stomach, and intertwined her tiny fingers with his. He gave her hair a few strokes and then looked at Mycroft. 

"What is this? What's going on? Where are you taking us?" 

Mycroft twirled his umbrella around and coolly said, "Have patience, John. We'll arrive at our destination in due time. For now, just relax." 

John thought about putting up a fight, but Kylie was in the car, he resigned to let Mycroft have it his way. 


	12. Chapter 12

John looked out of the window and watched the buildings outside blur as the car sped down the street. They've been in the car for close to twenty minutes and with each minute that passed, John got more and more anxious. He didn't realize it but he was squeezing Kylie's hand. She looked up at him and said, "Papa, you're hurting me." 

He looked down at her and lessened his hold on her. 

"I'm sorry, pup." 

She only smiled at him, and then faced the front of the car. John took a look at Mycroft, who was typing away at his mobile phone. God only knows what he was writing up. John remembered the time that Sherlock stole Mycroft's phone, just to see what was in the blasted thing. Sherlock cracked his code and then got so worked up that he waved it around while John was boiling a pot of water and accidentally dropped it in. Nobody moved at first, Sherlock and John just stared at it, and then the phone shorted out. John got a ladle and took it out. There was more staring, Sherlock poked the home button to see if it would work again. John had the urge to burst out laughing, but Sherlock looked like he was in no mood to be laughed at. They tried everything, the rice in the bowl, taking apart the phone and then letting it air dry, they even borrowed Mrs. Hudson's hair dryer and tried to use it on the phone, but to no avail. The next day, Sherlock was due to see Mycroft, but he refused to tell him about the mobile. He and John hatched a plan to make it look like Mycroft broke his phone, and it succeeded. Sherlock handed Mycroft his beloved mobile. and then started to taunt him about all the incriminating evidence he found. Mycroft set it down on the table, right next to "John's" water. John then acted like he tripped over Mycroft's umbrella, causing him to turn around, and knocking the cup over. John should have taken his phone out when he saw Mycroft's face. Needless to say, the plan worked, and Sherlock avoided his death at the hands of his brother. John always wondered since then, did Mycroft know that it was already broken and just humored his brother? 

"John, we are approaching our destination." 

"And what is our destination?" 

Kylie chirped, "Uncle Mycroft's house!" 

Mycroft's mouth flickered into the faintest of smiles. 

"Quite right, Kylie." 

"He told you, did he?" 

Kylie nodded. 

"He picked me up today." 

John's brows rose. 

"Did he now?" 

Mycroft pocketed his phone and looked over at John. "Apologies, John, I would have called but I had to make a few calls and was distracted." 

John huffed and dropped the conversation. He couldn't ignore the feeling of Mycroft's eyes on him. The driver turned and as he drove down the street, the houses got bigger and fancier, this was the neighborhood that John knew he would never be able to live in. He wondered how many of the houses belonged to people who needed the rooms. If there's anything John learned being with Sherlock, is that you could have all the money in the world, but still be the loneliest man on the planet. He wondered how Mycroft did it, being alone for so long with nothing but money to keep him company. 

The car pulled up in front of Mycroft's home. It wasn't as big as some of the other houses, but it was still a decent size. The driver opened the door for Mycroft, who got out and then opened the door for Kylie and John. He held his hand out for Kylie's small one to grab, which she did. John closed the door behind him and stared up at the house. Whatever was going to happen next wasn't good. How long has it been since he's seen Mycroft? His head hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to be resting in his chair. Mycroft and Kylie were waiting for him at the door, he didn't move, even though that's what they were waiting for. He gave in and walked over to join them. When Mycroft opened the door, John felt this wave of unease wash over him. Mycroft shut the door behind them and led them down the long hall. It wasn't how John expected it to look, the decorum was lavish, of course, but it wasn't over-the-top. You could tell that Mycroft kept up appearances, but he didn't spend every waking moment stressing over the price of his interior. He was rich, but not showy about it. John strayed behind Kylie and Mycroft. 

"Right this way." 

John entered the room, which turned out to be the dining room. Seated at the table was Greg, Sally, and after a moment, Mycroft. Kylie took a seat next to the empty chair that was reserved for John. He wasn't sitting down. Mycroft held his hand out and motioned for John to take his seat. 

"Now, now, doctor, take a seat." 

John's fists were clenched. 

"Why am I here?" 

Mycroft, as cool as ever simply kept his hand up and pointed at the vacant seat. John still refused to sit. They were staring at him with sullen faces, well Greg and Sally were. Finally, Sally spoke. 

"Mr. Watson..." 

"Holmes-Watson." He corrected harshly. Sally swallowed hard and said, "Mr. Holmes-Watson...please take a seat." 

"I'll ask again, what for?" 

Greg folded his hands. 

"John, don't make this harder than it has to be. Please, just sit in the chair." 

John noticed the Detective Inspector's tone. He wanted to be angry with him, but he couldn't find the heart. This is what made John sit down. Slowly, almost like a cornered animal, he pulled the chair back and then took a seat. Kylie watched him with careful eyes. This is the calmest he's ever seen her. He folded his hands in his lap and stared directly at Mycroft. 

"Alright, I'm sitting. Now what?" 

Mycroft looked away and exhaled. He actually looked distraught, John could scarcely believe it. 

"Now...now comes the hard part." 

He ignored the way Sally and Greg shuffled uncomfortably in their chairs. Mycroft stopped talking and simply stared at the father and daughter sat in front of him. He sniffed and then spoke again. 

"John, it has come to my attention that you have been...how should I put this? You've not been well since the death of my little brother." 

"Should I not be saddened by the death of my husband? If I recall, you were saddened as well." 

Mycroft's face seemed afflicted by the comment. 

"I would not use past tense when the topic comes to my brother." 

John's feet shuffled. 

"What is it?" 

Mycroft came right out and said, "It has come to my attention that you have started drinking, John. As well as fall into depressive states that cause you to ignore your daughter, who also happens to be my niece if I might add." 

John was silent. 

"How...how do you know that?" 

"So I am right, I mean, of course I'm right. You've been drinking, slept off a hangover the previous night, the evidence is your eyes are bloodshot and your speech is slurred. Of course that could be the fact that you helped yourself to a few cups shortly before you left your home to pick up Kylie. Am I correct?" 

John didn't answer. His hand was brought up to his cheek and his leg was shaking. Mycroft shifted his gaze to Kylie. 

"Her clothes have stains on them, probably from food or markers from school. These stains look fairly old, about a week, which would give you more than enough time to wash them before the school week started again. Must I go on, John?" 

Quietly, John said, "I'd prefer if you didn't." 

The two cops didn't need to hear about John's home life. 

"How do you know this, Mycroft?" 

Mycroft's eyes flickered over to Kylie's blue ones. 

"You installed cameras in my flat again?" 

Mycroft shook his head. 

"Not this time. Kylie, she called me. She told me that you were up late, shouting at Sherlock when in reality nobody else occupied the room, save you. She told me that you said that 'She couldn't help you'." 

John's breath hitched in his throat. He looked at Kylie, who shrank into her chair. She looked absolutely terrified. 

"I'm...I'm sorry, papa. I was scared and...and...what are you going to do, uncle?" 

Mycroft's eyes darted back at John's. 

"You were heavily drunk that night, John. Looking at the sight of you now, I can say that this was not the first time, nor will it be the last. I'm sorry to have to do this, John, but...Kylie will live with me from now on. I had these papers dropped off to me earlier today. I assume you know what these are?" 

John sat up in his chair. 

"Those are papers...for child custody." 

Mycroft nodded. 

"I have already signed them, and the court has already granted me the rights. As of right now, I am Kylie's guardian." 

John's face shook with rage, his body was trembling. 

"W-What do you mean? You can't just take her from me, Mycroft!" His voice was raising. 

"Sorry mate, I think it's for the best. You've clearly not gotten past your grief. I understand completely, but you have to think about your daughter, and from what I saw that night at the pub...this might be better for her and yourself." Greg interrupted. 

"Fuck off Greg, your wife took all of your children, what do you know?" 

Greg tried to shrug off the hurt from John's anger-filled response. 

"I understand that you're very upset now, which is why I'll excuse your comments, but..." 

John shot out of his chair, which prompted Sally and Greg to as well. 

"You can't fucking do this, Mycroft! You can't take Kylie from me! Please...she's all I have left...don't you do this!" 

John looked down and saw Kylie sobbing. She moved to get out of her chair but Sally grabbed her hand. She was trying to hug John. 

"No, no, I love papa, don't take him away!" 

Greg was using his strength to hold John down, he was jerking in his grasp. The tears were threatening to fall. 

"Mycroft, Mycroft please! Kylie, Kylie stay here!" 

Sally was kneeling now, she was whispering kind words to the crying child. Mycroft sat as his desk and said, "You will be able to see her every other week. This should give you enough time to sober up." 

John struggled and shouted, "Kylie?! KYLIE!" 

He was being pushed out of the room. He caught one last glance at Mycroft, who was now holding Kylie's hand and staring at John with a hidden sadness in his eyes. This couldn't be happening, he was asleep, surely, he was still sleeping off the alcohol. While he screamed her name, all he could do was tell himself to wake up in his head. 

_Wake up._

_Wake up._

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

John was still screaming her name. Even though Greg was pushing him farther and farther away from her. He saw her giant blue eyes staring at him with tears spilling from them. She saw Sally’s hand resting on her shoulder, and Mycroft standing behind her, just staring at him. How dare he? How dare he look at John with remorse? He planned this, he knew that this was going to happen. Was this why he supported John for so long? Why he paid his rent without any sort of repayment from John? He expected this, of course he did. He wanted John to slip up like this. John’s face was so hot from anger. Mycroft took Kylie away, his pup, Sherlock’s little dove. Greg was speaking to him as he opened the door to the car that brought him to this godforsaken place. John stopped moving as the front door closed behind him. She couldn’t hear him anymore, it was over, and Mycroft had her now. He felt his body being pushed down and then the familiar feeling of the leather seat against his hand.

“Calm down John. I know this is hard, I’ve went through the same thing, as you pointed out, I can’t promise you anything, but I can try to get Kylie back for you.”

John’s eyes slowly moved to meet Greg’s.

“And how would you do that, Detective Inspector?”

Greg cringed at being called by his rank. He maintained his professionalism and continued talking to John. He buckled the man in and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He took notice at how unresponsive John was being.

“I don’t know, but I do know that I’ll need you to work with me.”

John didn’t reply. Greg shut the door and watched the car pull away with a father who just lost his child. John almost told the driver to take him to the nearest pub, but then that’s what got him in this mess in the first place. The sky looked grayer to him. In fact, everything was duller now that Kylie wasn’t around. He didn’t even want to think about the flat without her in it. Didn’t he wish for this though? Didn’t he spend so many nights, watching her sleep, thinking about dropping her off at Mycroft’s house? Looking for an alternative to living with him?

He never wanted that. He only wanted her to be happy, but he didn’t mean for this to happen. John sank back into his chair and stared at the back of the passenger seat.

He missed her so much already.

_Sherlock and John walked out of the hospital with their new baby in tow. John brought the car seat for the baby before she was able to be released from the hospital. John was walking a bit slower than he normally would because he was holding the baby. Sherlock would look at John, and then at the sleeping newborn and raised his arm to hail a taxi. Once they were settled in the back of the cab, Sherlock and John were staring at her with the softest look in their eyes. John reached in and adjusted her tiny hat given to them by the hospital, and made sure the blanket was covering her vulnerable areas, as it was cold because of the rain that recently stopped. Every so often Kylie would make a noise and then settle back into her spot. John rested his hand on her blanketed legs._

_“Can you believe it, Sherlock?”_

_“Scarcely.”_

_John chuckled and inched over to give Sherlock a kiss._

_“I wasn’t the one who had the baby, John.”_

_John’s smile could not fade. He was blissful._

_“I know, Sherlock. I’m still going to kiss you.”_

_Sherlock hummed and pressed his lips against John’s. Kylie made another soft noise. John rocked the seat back and forth in an attempt to calm her down. Sherlock smiled briefly, and then went on his phone._

_“Sir? We’re here.”_

_John looked up at the cabbie._

_“What was that?”_

“I said we’re here, sir.”

John looked around. The only other person in the car was himself. His jaw clenched as he realized where he was. He looked out the window and saw his flat there. He hesitated to get out, he couldn’t face it. The first room he would see was Kylie’s. He tried to force himself to say something to the driver, to tell him to drive him to the pub a few blocks down from there.

“Sir?”

“I heard you.” John uttered lowly. He unbuckled his seatbelt and left the car. The driver drove off before John made it to the front door. John’s lip quivered from the sight of his door. A couple walked past him, they barely gave him a glance. John let out a sigh, people were going to think him a loon if he didn’t walk into the house. He whipped out his key and took slow steps over to the door. He tried to walk towards his room without looking to the right, but he couldn’t help himself. He expected Kylie to pop out of the room and pounce on his legs and give him the tightest hug she could muster. There’s nothing. Just her bed, covered in her various stuffed animals. The light is off, and the curtains are closed. His heart sank to his chest as he stared at the vacant room. She always hated it being so dark, he walked in to open the curtain but as soon as his feet were planted in the room, he couldn’t walk any further. There was a lump in his throat, he didn’t try to swallow it. He surveyed the room, all her books were neatly tucked inside the little shelf, her bed was made, and everything was as she left it. He couldn’t touch anything, he couldn’t.

He walked out of her room and went to his own. He was going to have to sleep alone again. There was no Kylie to bring him back to reality, there was no one to keep Sherlock’s side of the bed anymore. John let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t until now that he realized that he was alone.

Sherlock was gone.

Kylie was gone.

He could barely stand to live without Sherlock, how was he going to function now?

He never missed Sherlock as much as he did now. What he wouldn’t give to feel Sherlock’s kisses, to hear Sherlock’s voice in his ear. What he wouldn’t give to have him back. He drank and drank some more that night. He didn’t want to remember what happened, he didn’t want to feel anything. He didn’t want to know what it felt like to have Sherlock and Kylie. He didn’t want to be, anymore.

He broke down in Kylie’s room, clutching one of her stuffed animals. He didn’t want to break down, but it was the liquor in his system that made him do it. He missed her dearly, he missed Sherlock dearly.

_“Kylie’s gone.”_

He heard his voice and his tears came out harder. Not now, Sherlock, not when he was like this.

_“She’s gone, because you didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop drinking. My brother has her now, and you know how he is.”_

John sniffed.

“What’s he going to do to her?”

Sherlock shrugged.

_“He’ll raise her the same way he did me. I needn’t say more.”_

John wiped away the tears and looked up at Sherlock. So soft and beautiful, he wanted to touch him so bad. He wanted to cry again because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to.

“I fucked up, Sherlock. I fucked up so bad.”

_“It happens to the best of us, John.”_

“No, you know what I mean. I let her go, Sherlock. Our daughter, the last connection I had to you. Kylie…my little pup…”

_“Is that the only reason why you care about her being gone? Because you won’t have anything left to remember me by?”_

John heard the slight change in Sherlock’s tone, and he immediately sniffled and shook his head.

“I didn’t mean it like that….I meant….I meant….”

John took a breath and looked at Sherlock. Those blue eyes were going to kill him, if his gun didn’t first. He reached up and moved to stroke Sherlock’s cheek, but his hand stopped in mid-air, and it shook. Why couldn’t he be granted this? Why was he preventing himself from touching his Sherlock? Why was he such a glutton for punishment? He shook his head and brought his hand down.

“Why can’t I touch you?”

Sherlock looked away, and for a moment he looked…he looked sad. John didn’t want him to wear that face. He didn’t want to see Sherlock suffer like he did.

“Sherlock…why can’t I have you back?”

_“I’m not really here, John.”_

“W-What are you talking about? Yes you are, you’re right here and you’re looking at me. You look so beautiful and it hurts because I want to touch you, but I can’t. Why can’t I?”

_“I’m not real. You wanted to see me again, and here I am. Stop staring at me like that, I’m no spirit who’s risen from his grave because he’s not at peace. I’m dead, John. You know that I’m dead.”_

John shook his head in disbelief and ran his hand through his hair. Sherlock was real, this was all a nightmare, just another nightmare brought on by his time in the war. He was going to wake up and realize that it was all just a dream, that Sherlock was fast asleep in the bed next to him, that Kylie wasn’t there, or maybe she was still a newborn sleeping soundly in her crib. This was all one big dream.

_“You’re not acting rational, John. Stop wanting to believe that I’ve always been here. I’m not here, I’m gone. I love you, God knows I do, John. But I can’t stand to see you suffer this way. Let me go. I was never here. Go and get Kylie back. Please, John, stop this. You’re killing yourself.”_

Wasn’t that what he wanted? He wanted to be with Sherlock, he wanted Kylie to be gone so that she could live a happier life. He wanted her back. No, he _needed_ her back. She was the only thing that kept him from pulling the trigger each day he awoke.

_“Stop torturing yourself in this way, John! Stop it now!”_

John shook his head, not bothering to stop the tears that were dripping into his mouth.

“Nope. I’m not going to. I can’t let you go, Sherlock. I love you. I love you so much….to suffer would be not seeing you anymore, forgetting you. I know you want to help me Sherlock, but allow me this much.”

**_“Please.”_ **

 

John woke up the next morning in his bed with tearstains running down his cheek and Kylie’s stuffed animal half draped across the bed.


	14. Chapter 14

It’s been at least three weeks since Kylie was gone and John couldn’t remember the last time he spent a whole day sober since. He woke up and ate something that didn’t require cooking or cleaning afterward. He would stumble his way into the bathroom and stare at the man in the mirror. His hair was all over the place, his eyes were bloodshot, and the bags under his eyes were bigger than he’s ever seen. He wasn’t getting much sleep. Sometimes Sherlock would show up, and he would hold John and whisper in his ear and tell him that he had to stop hurting himself. John would stare up into Sherlock’s eyes and he would move in and he would try to kiss Sherlock, but Sherlock wouldn’t let him. John would just get angry and push him away and then shout. Sherlock sat there and listened to John vent. After a while, John would stop shouting and then he would break down again and beg Sherlock not to leave anymore. John knows that he would never act this way sober, he would be resigned to keep it all in.

Some mornings, typically weekdays, he would wake up and say, “Kylie, time to wake up!” then he would pause and remember where she was, and how she got there and then John’s body would get heavy again. He closed the door and walked into the kitchen. There would be no alcohol tonight, his headache was too much to bear. He dropped an Alka-Seltzer in his water and watched it dissolve in the liquid. He didn’t move for a few minutes, he found himself moving slower than he usually would. He took a shower the night before and discovered that he lost weight. About five pounds or so. He hasn’t had a full meal in a while, this was bound to happen. He did shave that night, he could feel his cheeks thinning without the stubble redirecting his attention. He sighed. He was always tired now, and there some days where he didn’t even get out of bed. What did he need to move for? There was no one left. It was just him, he was always alone.

He sat in his chair and turned the television on. There was nothing on, nothing that could capture his attention. He didn’t really want to watch telly, he felt as if he was on auto-pilot. At some point, he left the remote alone and settled on a programme. He wasn’t really watching it, no. His eyes teared up as he realized that nothing was interesting to him anymore. He couldn’t find solace in anything. John finally admitted to himself that he felt so sad. He was depressed. He stood up and walked over to his collection. Only one bottle left, not much in it anyway. He told himself that he didn’t need it, that he didn’t want it. God he wanted it so bad. He resigned to pouring himself a cup.

“Just a small amount, not too much.” He muttered as he gulped it down. It didn’t burn anymore, it felt just like drinking water. A bit not good.

While he drank, he looked up at the fridge and saw the post-it note he wrote for Kylie.

**_ A Reminder  _ **

  * **_She is your daughter, love her_**
  * **_You don't know what she's going through either_**
  * **_Don't neglect her in ANY WAY_**
  * **_Her happiness and well-being are MORE important than your next glass_**
  * **_What would Sherlock say?_**



He wrote this reminder for himself. Some job he did remembering it. He ripped it off the fridge, he must’ve moved it there on one of his drunk nights. He fished through the kitchen drawers and got the Sharpie marker out of its hiding place. He popped off the cap and started to write on the note. He crossed out the original writing and began to write over it. He capped the marker again, and then put the note back up on the fridge.

**_ A Reminder  _ **

  * **_~~She is your daughter, love her~~_** ~~~~
  * **_~~You don't know what she's going through either~~_** ~~~~
  * **_~~Don't neglect her in ANY WAY~~_** ~~~~
  * **_~~Her happiness and well-being are MORE important than your next glass~~_** ~~~~
  * **_~~What would Sherlock say?~~_** ~~~~



**_YOU’RE A FAILURE_ **

John sniffed a couple of times and then walked away from the fridge, allowing the words that he scribbled down to sink in. This time, he would be remember. He shut the telly off and walk back into his room and laid down on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, and later on, he fell asleep.

_“I’m here to see Mr. Holmes-Watson.”_

_The nurse smiled at John and nodded._

_“Of course. If you’ll follow me.”_

_John clutched the flowers in his hand as he followed the young nurse to his husband’s room. The doctor phoned him and told him that Sherlock was in a better mood this week, if he were to visit him, this would be the time. John decided to leave Kylie home with Mrs. Hudson and Molly. They’ve been aching to watch her again._

_They stopped in front of the door. Room 221. John always smiled when he saw the room number, it made him feel good knowing that the staff (with Mycroft’s assistance) tried to accommodate Sherlock as much as they could. She flashed another smile in John’s direction and left. John opened the door and saw Sherlock lying in the bed. He looked like he was sleeping._

_“Sherlock.”_

_His eyes fluttered open and he sat up._

_“John.”_

_John grinned and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips. John noticed the way Sherlock stared at the flowers in his hand. He rubbed the back of his neck._

_“I picked these up because, I thought this room could use some color.”_

_Sherlock chuckled. John placed them on the counter next to Sherlock’s bed._

_“What would I do without you?”_

_They both laughed. John placed a hand on Sherlock’s and then he started stroking his cheek. He tried to ignore Sherlock’s gaunt face. He was losing weight, too much weight._

_“So, how’ve you been, Sherlock?”_

_Sherlock shrugged._

_“Sometimes I’m exhausted, and other times…can I ask you something, John?”_

_John nodded._

_“Of course you can.”_

_Sherlock smiled and then, he asked, “Why did you let me die?”_

_John let go of Sherlock’s hand and stared at him with astonishment._

_“W-What do you mean?”_

_“You never asked me what was wrong. You just assumed, and then you got mad at me instead. You could have saved me John. You could have helped me!”_

_Sherlock burst out into tears and John shot up out of his chair. What was happening?_

_“You could have saved me, John! Why didn’t you?”_

John woke up with a start. He was out of breath and his eyes darted around the room. He was in his bed, he fell asleep, and he had a bad dream. That was it. That was all. He pressed around in his bed. He was okay, he was alright. When he was sure that he was okay, he laid back down and ran a hand through his hair. He tried to hold back but he just couldn’t. He broke down. He couldn’t take much more of this.

_“John, are you alright?”_

He sniffled.

“I’m…I’m alright, Sherlock. Lie down with me.”

_“What for?”_

John sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Because I would like your company.”

Sherlock gave John a small smile and climbed in the bed with him. Sherlock reached up and wiped away the tears that John missed on his cheek, and John fought every urge to kiss him and make love to him right there.

_“What are you thinking?”_

John sniffled again and he gave the ghost of a smile.

“I was wondering if I can get away with this.”

He pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock let out a soft sigh and tried to pull away.

_“John…stop…”_

John didn’t stop there. He grabbed Sherlock’s arm and peppered soft kisses along it. Sherlock closed his eyes. He put Sherlock’s arm down and moved to Sherlock’s face. He shoved his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth, and had to pull away to breathe. Sherlock’s eyes opened and he stared into John’s eyes.

_“What’s wrong?”_

John’s lip quivered and he shook his head. He kissed Sherlock again, pulled away, and then kissed him again.

“Why can’t I have you the way I want you?”

_“I told you already. I’m here, because you wanted me to be here.”_

“I know.”

He gave Sherlock another kiss, and then rolled over, facing away from Sherlock.

“…This isn’t how I wanted you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments keep a writer going!


	15. Chapter 15

He was going to see Kylie today. Mycroft called him last night, right before he went to bed and told him that he was allowed access to see Kylie. John scoffed. He shouldn’t be “allowed” to see his daughter. She was his daughter, his and Sherlock’s. He gave himself a once over in the mirror. His hair was washed and actually combed and styled, he was clean-shaven. Just how Sherlock liked him. He quirked the tips of his mouth to form something of a smile. It wasn’t good enough. He was going to see his daughter for the first time in a month. She was going to look up at him with those big glassy eyes, and she was going to smile when she saw his face and he was going to feel better. Mycroft was kind enough to permit John the whole day with Kylie. He did warn John that if he were to show up drunk at any time, his visitation rights would be restricted until he got sober again.

That’s a word that he would have never imagined he would have to use on himself. He never expected to be _the_ alcoholic, he was always the one who helped the alcoholic. Harry’s probably laughing at him right now. She would probably say it was Karma. All those years he spent ignoring her, or fighting with her because she drank too much. Now look at him, he was being threatened with his daughter in order to be sober. What did Kylie think of him now? Was he still the hero to her? Her father’s trusted partner, her army doctor who saved dozens of lives before he needed his own saved. He hated disappointing Sherlock, and now he hates to disappoint Kylie.

He slid on his coat and closed his bedroom door after walking out. He forced himself to not look into her room. He hated feeling the guilt that her room produced. He should have been more responsible, he should have been less selfish. He stood in front of his fridge and read the post- it note. Yes, he was a failure. He looked at the picture that he took of Sherlock and himself sometime after their marriage. Sherlock smiled so much. John smiled so much. He bent down and stared at the picture he took of newborn Kylie. John spent so many days hyping Sherlock up about her arrival, about becoming a parent. The days after she was born, he was so very tired, but he couldn’t help but fall in love with her each and every time he had to put her back to sleep. That seems like so long ago.

He checked his watch, he was wasting too much time. He looked out of the window and saw Mycroft’s car waiting out front for him. He made his way downstairs. The car ride was solemn, and the only noise was the soft humming of the car’s engine. John would notice the driver look at him through the mirror, and looked like he had something to say. John was glad that he didn’t. They pulled up in front of Mycroft’s house, and John was out of the car in an instant. He walked to the front door and knocked. It was Kylie who opened the door, with Mycroft standing behind her.

“Papa!” She jumped up and he caught her. He brought her into a tight hug.

“Hello, pup.” He replied softly.

“She has been awaiting your arrival all day, John. Do come in.”

John stepped inside the house. Mycroft shut the door behind him. While they walked down the hall, John pressed gentle kisses into Kylie’s hair. This wasn’t her scent. He changed her shampoo. He set her down on the couch in the living room and took his seat next to her. Mycroft sat in the armchair adjacent to the two. He watched as Kylie crawled back into John’s lap and took her seat there. John rested his chin on top of her head. Mycroft couldn’t help but notice how John looked so…relieved was the word. A part of Mycroft felt bad for doing this to John and Kylie, but John wasn’t well. He needed to take care of himself before he could take care of Kylie. It’s what Sherlock would have wanted, he was sure.

“Kylie has been getting on well since she’s been here, isn’t that right?”

Kylie looked over at her uncle and nodded. John rubbed her arm.

“That’s…that’s nice. As long as she’s happy here, isn’t that the point?”

Mycroft gave a genial smile and nodded.

“Quite right.”

Kylie started tugging on John’s sleeve.

“Papa! Papa! Look!”

“What is it, pup?”

She opened her mouth and pointed to her front two teeth on the top.

“They fell out!”

John’s eyes widened and he feigned excitement over her teeth falling out. She was of age now, all her baby teeth were going to fall out.

“Really? Oh I see, you know what this means, right?”

She shook her head.

“Uncle Mycroft didn’t tell you? Whenever you lose your teeth the tooth fairy comes and gives you money.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“John, I hardly think telling her this will do anyone any good.”

John glared at Mycroft, but continued to speak about the tooth fairy. He could see Kylie’s eyes light up once he said “fairy” and “money” in the same sentence. She beamed, showing her missing teeth clearly now.

“How much money?”

John shrugged.

“It depends on how many fall out. In your case, two fell out so you would get…how does a fiver sound?”

She nodded and John fished through his wallet (and tried to ignore how utterly empty it was) and placed the five pounds in Kylie’s hand.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, papa! Although, isn’t the tooth fairy supposed to give me the money?”

John just chuckled.

“I’m doing her a favor.”

Kylie placed a kiss on his cheek and then ran down the hall with the money in her hand. John’s smile faded as Kylie left the room. His eyes sagged and his mouth curved into the faintest of frowns. He refused to look at Mycroft as he talked to him.

“She looks much…happier, doesn’t she?”

He saw Mycroft nod from the corner of his eye.

“She does miss you, John, do not doubt that.”

“I wonder if she would even want to come back to the flat.”

“I know Kylie, she would come back because you are there.”

John snorted.

“Looking at her now, I’m not even sure if I would want to bring her back if she’s happier here.”

Mycroft sighed and then sat up in the chair.

“Time will tell.”

John let out a defeated sigh. It felt like an eternity before he said anything else. He hated himself for even asking Mycroft out of all people but he had no one else.

“What do I do now?”

Mycroft rested his hands on his legs and said, “Start small, John. You are in need of work, are you not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might end the story in the next chapter. I'm sorry for those who have been following it, but I've lost my spark for this and I've already written up the first chapter to another fic that I'll be posting in a few days and I'm quite excited for you all to read it. 
> 
> Also, I don't see the point in updating a fic that's hardly receiving feedback. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has followed the story.


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